Bart Stirling's Road to Success Part 33

"Come after something?" inquired the agent "I don't recall that there is anything here for you."

"No, I want to express these hives," answered the farmer.

He indicated six boxes lying in his wagon, covered with gauze.

"Bother!" said Pope, a little crossly. "That's no midnight job. Why don't you come in the daytime, Mr. Simms? You just caught me here by chance, at this outlandish hour."

"Particular s.h.i.+pment," explained Simms, "and I've got to catch the trains just right. You see, these are special imported Italian bees, Breeders. I reckon every one of those beauties is worth half-a-dollar.

They're very delicate in this climate, and call for great care. I want you to instruct the messenger to follow the directions carded on the boxes."

"I can do that," said Pope. "What he will do, is another thing."

"You see," continued the farmer, "if they handle them carefully at Pleasantville, and see that they catch the early express to the city from there, someone will be waiting to take them in charge at the terminus. I'd be awful glad to tip the messenger handsomely to have someone at Pleasantville, where they transfer the hives, open the ventilators for a spell and tip down into the pans some of the honey syrup."

"I will do that for you, sir," spoke up Bart--"I am in charge of the express office at Pleasantville. I am going on this train, and I will be glad to see that your goods are attended to just right, and transferred on time."

"Say, will you?" exclaimed the farmer in a pleased tone. "Now, that's just the ticket! The wrong draught on those bees, or too much bad air, or too little feed, and they die off in dozens. You see, at fifty cents apiece, that means quite a loss on an unlucky s.h.i.+pment."

"It does, indeed, Mr. Simms," responded Bart "I am very much interested in the little workers, and you can rest easy as to their being rightly cared for. I believe I will ride to Pleasantville in the express car, so your bees will be right under my eye till they are put on the city express."

"Thank you, thank you," said the farmer heartily.

As the train whistled in the distance, he came up to Bart and slipped a bank note in his hand.

Bart demurred, but it was no use. He found himself two dollars richer for his accommodating proposition.

As the train drew up, Peter Pope rapped at the door of the express car.

A sleepy-eyed messenger opened it. The hives were shoved in. Bart made a brief explanation to the messenger, showing his pa.s.s. He waved a pleasant adieu to Pope and the farmer as the express car door was closed and locked.

When Bart got home he was more than tired out. But he had done well and in the end got full praise for his work.

A day pa.s.sed, and Bart failed to find Baker. He hunted everywhere and kept up the search until he knew not where to look further.

Bart went home. He had scarcely reached his bedroom when there was a vigorous summons at the front door.

"I hope it is Baker," murmured Bart, as he slipped on the coat he had just taken off.

"A telegram, Bart," said his mother, at the bottom of the stairs.

She had receipted for it. Bart tore it open wonderingly, glancing first at the signature, and marveling at its unusual length. It was signed by Robert Leslie, superintendent of the express company, at the city end of the line.

This is what it said:

"Special II. 256 by afternoon express, for Martin & Company, Pleasantville, contains fifteen thousand dollars in cash, sender Dunn & Son, Importers. They ask me to make a special delivery, and will defray any extra cost for having it accepted personally by A.B. Martin, and receipted for by him in the presence of witnesses. Delivery to be legal, must be made before twelve, midnight, and this certified to. This is a very important matter for one of the company's largest customers. Be sure to make delivery on time."

Bart read the telegram over twice, taking in its important details, with a serious face.

"Fifteen thousand dollars!" he repeated. "It has saved me some worry that I did not discover the amount before. As to the delivery, that is easy. I've got over two hours yet. I see what it is. Martin & Company probably want to throw up a contract because prices have gone up, the contract must be made binding by payment of fifteen thousand dollars by midnight, or Dunn & Son lose. All right."

His mother noticed that some important business was on her son's mind, and only told Bart to take care of himself.

Bart hurried towards the express office. At a street crossing he paused, to let pa.s.s a close carriage that was driven along at a furious rate of speed in the direction from which he had just come.

"h.e.l.lo!" he forcibly e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, as it flashed by him, the corner street lamp irradiating its interior brightly--"there's queer company for you!"

The remark was warranted. The occupants of the vehicle were Colonel Jeptha Harrington and Lem Wacker.

CHAPTER XXVII

LATE VISITORS

The little express office was dark and lonely-looking when Bart again reached it.

Bart unlocked the office door, shot the inside bolt carefully after him, lighted the lantern, placed it on the desk, and opened the safe.

As he selected the big brown envelope marked "Martin & Company," and bearing the express company's s.h.i.+ning green seals, his fingers tingled.

The immensity of the sum intrusted to his charge perturbed him a trifle.

Bart relocked the safe, stowed the envelope in an inner pocket, and opened the drawer of a little stand leaning against the safe.

He took out a revolver. Mr. Leslie himself had advised him to always have one handy in the express office. Bart had never touched the weapon before. It had been loaned him by Mr. Haven, and Darry had brought it to the office. Bart slipped it now into a side pocket.

He noticed in detail the entry on the messenger's slip. The prepaid charges on the Martin & Company consignment were seven dollars and seventy-five cents, or five cents for every hundred dollars or fraction of it over the first fifty dollars, which was charged for at regular tariff rates, twenty-five cents.

"It is fifteen thousand dollars, right enough!" mused Bart. "Now, to make sure of the form of receipt."

He filled out a special receipt that acknowledged besides the usual delivery, a verification of the amount of the inclosure, its acceptance as correct, and left a blank for the names of two witnesses.

Bart was now ready to sally forth on his peculiar errand, and had fully decided in his mind the persons he would get to act as his witnesses.

"What is that!" he questioned, suddenly and sharply.

He could hear a springy vehicle bound over the near tracks, and then its wheels cut the loose cindered road leading up to the express office.

It halted. He could catch the quick, labored breathing of two horses, a carriage door creaked! some low voices made a brief hum of conversation, and the vehicle seemed to depart.

Bart stood stock-still, wondering and guessing. Footsteps sounded on the platform. There came a thundering thump as of a heavy cane on the office door.

"Who is there?" demanded Bart.

"Colonel Harrington. I've got to see you."

"Come in," Bart said, unbolting the door.